Band Aids
by EbonyOsmosis
Summary: "Aw come on kid, ya gotta learn to laugh at yourself." - Young Nate and Sully.


Band Aids

* * *

He can't help the scowl that twists his face when he hears that loud, gravelly voice break out into heavy guffaws. Damn, stupid, annoying old man is what he is. He swipes a slew of dirty water away from eyes before mumbling something about proper upkeep of one's home, but his comment is lost under the laughing, where Sully is starting to sound out of breath.

"Oh, you're killin' me kid!" he shouts, holding his gut like someone just socked him there. Someone should.

It had been two months since Nate agreed to partner with the old man, and while he had to admit that some of the tricks he was picking up were useful, mostly the guy is just annoying. He contemplates not for the first time just walking away without a word. Sometimes the urge is more akin to bolting like a rabbit, but right now he would just roll his eyes and go.

Nate remembers how he'd made a leap for the building, catching a drainpipe that wasn't as sturdy as it looked. The blocked storm gutter buckles under his weight and a load of week old rain and grime tips over his head like an unexpected shower. This of course prompted him to let go, falling unceremoniously to the street below where Sully was watching and giving pointers. Like the old man can even make a jump at his age.

Its really getting old now, and Nate decides he's fed up with being laughed at like some big joke. Instead of waiting for the man to finish and get it out of his system, he turns away and starts walking, squeezing the water out of his shirt as he goes and thankful that he at least isn't wearing his bag. Everything would be covered in smelly water if he'd had it on him, and he doesn't fancy the idea of his journal being soaked in old rain water.

Sully finally seems to notice his absence, his laughs dying down and confused mumbling filling the alleyway. For a few moments the older man looks around without result, before finally spotting the retreating teen. Nate hears footsteps, and the old man is dogging his heals with a smirk on his stupid face. "Aw come on kid, ya gotta learn to laugh at yourself."

"You seem to be doing enough of that for the both of us," he snaps back, not looking at his follower out of spite. He doesn't like being laughed at, and he probably wouldn't be half as humiliated by the whole fiasco if it weren't for Sullivan's enjoyment of the scene.

"Don't be a sore head, ya little shit," Sully teases, not quite catching the hint. "You're going the wrong way, the hotel is back there."

"I know."

"Now come on, you gotta clean up and get into something dry. You'll get sick."

"I don't _get _sick," the boy replies sternly. He's spent a lot of time out on the streets, either cold, wet, tired, starving, or a combination of these while hoofing it to Cartegena. His immune system fought off every cold brought on by stray storms, every flu from nights of biting wind, every stomach ache from eating out of the trash when times got desperate. Now he just doesn't get sick at all.

"Of course ya will!" Sully insists.

"Unless something was in the water, than _no,_" Nathan repeats firmly.

"Come on, don't be sore," the older man says again, still tagging along side the teen. "I'm sorry I laughed at you, but it was pretty goddamn funny! Hey, I'm sure when I do somethin' stupid, you'll laugh at me! And I'll laugh at you many, _many _more times, so you should learn to thicken your skin!"

He just growls at the insinuation, reaching out to shove the man away in an effort to be rid of him for just two seconds.

"Hey now, no pushing! I- Hey, you're bleeding! Lemme see your hand, kid!"

He suddenly stops and looks at the man, where a bloody hand print now mars his shirt, then down to his palm. A perfect line of cuts runs across his fingers where the edge of the storm gutter bit in just before his fall. He hadn't noticed the stinging or the blood, and when he inspects his other hand, he finds the same results.

"Come on," Sully says sternly, planting a hand on the boys shoulder to get him moving.

Nathan bristles and jerks away, still wary of touch. Usually when someone touches him its to beat him for stealing. He doesn't like hands on him, but despite the indiscretion he follows the man back towards the hotel, oddly compliant. There's an odd tension in the air between them now, not quite stifling but enough so that they both know what's going on but neither will say it.

True, he doesn't get sick anymore, but he still gets hurt from time to time. The only difference is this is the first time someone had noticed or cared. He's never had someone to notice blood on him, or to insist that he get a cut or a scrape looked at. Its strange to him, because he usually just wipes the blood on his already filthy jeans and continues on his way. The thing is, its new for the man as well. It's obvious that he's never needed to look out for someone before, at least not like an adult should look out for a child.

While the boy is lost in his thoughts, Sully glances back at him once more to make sure he's following. The kid is a good thief and has makings for much more, but he's still a mystery to the older man. He's either cool and calculating, like that charming and innocent act he put on when they first met, or he's cold and closed off. Then there are those brief moments where his eyes light up and history buff comes out, entranced by little details that Sully finds boring. He can easily pretend to be a normal goofball teenager, but Sully knows otherwise. The kid is distant, and for some reason hates to be touched. The first time he tried to put a hand on Nate's shoulder in a kind of praise, the kid shrank away like he'd been burned.

The kid had been a street rat until Sully came along, so he can only guess what he's been through to make him act so grown up most of the time. Of course he'd seem older than he should, having to fend for himself and steal to live. But it's been two months and the kid is still distrustful of him, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sully tries not to make sudden movements around him, cause he's afraid the kid will bolt, but he's surprised that he's still so closed off.

Sully resigns himself that he's just going to have to keep treading carefully around the boy, to prove that he's not going to betray or ditch Nate. He's not sure which one the kid is more afraid of, but he decides to make sure neither of those happen.

When they get back to the hotel, Sully gets out a first aid kit and a wet washcloth from the bathroom and beckons Nate over to the little table. He reaches out to grab the boy's left hand, but Nate instinctively pulls away like every other attempt. Sully sighs. "C'mon kid, I can't clean out the cuts like that. Gimme your hand."

The kid is hesitant, staring at him warily for a moment before reaching his hand back out. He twitches when Sully grabs his hand to steady it, but otherwise resists his reflex to pull away. The man is surprisingly gentle while dealing with the wounds, cleaning excess dirt and blood away with the cloth before applying some antibiotic cream. He then places a bandage on each finger to cover the cuts, which aren't too wide across but deep enough to need covering.

Finished, Sully gestures for Nate's other hand, which is offered forth with a little less hesitation. He tries not to think about the kid's life before this, but his hands tell a lot. They're still soft with youth, but there are scars and generous callous build up for such a young boy. He's been climbing walls and pipes long before Sully came around to show him how to perfect it.

Banishing these thoughts from his mind, Sully wraps up the last cut before releasing the boy's hand. "There ya go kid. We'll lay off roof jumping for a couple'a days and they should be good as new."

Nathan looks down at his hands while Sully cleans up the wrappers, flexing his fingers slightly. "Thank you," he says finally, looking Sully in the eye as he does so. The man blinks in surprise, the kid rarely makes full eye contact. Maybe the trust issues _are _receding. If only a little.

"No problem, kid," he responds, catching his wits. "You hungry?"

Nate looks down again, this time at his stomach, like he expects it to give him the answer. He looks back up. "Yeah, kinda."

"Let's go get something, then," Sully says, gesturing with one hand while shoving the other in his pocket. "I'm tired of hotel food."

The boy grins and stands up, following Sullivan to the door. Well, that was a step in the right direction. He can tend to the kid's wounds now without worrying that he's hiding something that will get infected. Maybe in another three months he can set a hand on Nate's shoulder to tell him 'good job' without the kid flinching.


End file.
